


Popsicles and Elevators.

by heyitsnxel



Series: 30 Trope Prompts. [26]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Implied Smut, M/M, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 04:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15356271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsnxel/pseuds/heyitsnxel
Summary: “Want a popsicle?”Dan looked at him, lips parted slightly in confusion. “What?”“A popsicle. Do you want one?”“We’re on a lift…”





	Popsicles and Elevators.

**Author's Note:**

> day 26: elevator meeting.

_“Want a popsicle?”_

_Dan looked at him, lips parted slightly in confusion. “What?”_

_“A popsicle. Do you want one?”_

_“We’re on a lift…”_

_“So?”_

 

* * *

 

 

Phil loved his flat. He truly did. He loved his neighbors. He loved where it was located. The colors of the carpet in the hallways and the paint on the walls weren’t bad too look at. Even the women who worked in the lobby were charming. Everything was perfect for him. Except the elevator. It had a terrible shudder when it was lifting and it seemed to lower to the lobby a lot faster than an elevator should. The lights on the buttons never worked and the doors always seemed to get stuck, if they even opened all the way at all.

 

Phil wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t live on the ninth floor. That was a lot of steps and he was definitely not fit enough to climb them every day (though he supposed he _would_ be fit if he forced himself to do it). But he was lazy, so he dealt with the shoddy elevator, ignoring the spike of panic every time the lift shook or made a noise it definitely should **NOT** be making.

 

Today was no different.  Phil found himself leaning against the wall, grocery bag in hand, as the lift stopped on the seventh floor. The doors slowly struggled to open and a brunette walked in, rolling his eyes at the doors as he passed. Glancing Phil's direction, he pushed the button for the lobby and gave him a once over. His lips curled into a smirk and when he met Phil's gaze, he winked before looking away.

 

Phil's heart stuttered. He let his eyes drop down to the massive rips in his skinny jeans, the way his jumper hung slightly off his shoulder - exposing part of his collarbone. The hoop in his ear caught the light and Phil found his lip caught between his bottom teeth, gnawing at the skin as he practically stared the brunette down. 

 

Whether he noticed or not, Phil realized he was being a bit creepy and dropped his gaze the linoleum beneath his shoes.

 

It was at this moment the lift decided to shake again. Neither of the men had been paying much attention, causing them both to stumble and knock into each other with a huff. Then the lift went dark.

 

While Phil was stuttering out a string of apologies and the other man was trying to steady himself on the wall, the familiar hum of the lift’s mechanics faded out and the lights on the ceiling dimmed to a lowlight that Phil struggled to see through. It had just… stopped.

 

The boy muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ under his breath and Phil could hear the his hands against the fabric of his jeans, digging in his pocket and pulling out his phone, the screen illuminating his face and the corner he stood in.

 

“There’s no service in here.”

 

Whatever his tone was, Phil couldn't decipher it. He didn't sound upset, but he definitely wasn't happy either. Phil awkwardly laughed, unsure what to do in this kind of situation. Internally, he was panicking a bit. Being stuck on a lift hadn’t been in his plans today and if there was no service for their phones, how long would it take for someone to even realize they were trapped? At some point during his spiral of fear, the brunette had walked across the floor and hit the emergency button on the panel.

 

“You okay, mate?”

 

Phil forced himself to swallow, nodding shakily. “Not really fond of getting stuck on a lift, but yeah. M’alright.” He paused. “Phil, by the way. If we’re going to be stuck here for a while, may as well know each other’s names.”

 

“Dan.”

 

“Want a popsicle?”

 

Dan looked at him, lips parted slightly in confusion. “What?”

 

“A popsicle. Do you want one?”

 

“We’re on a lift…”

 

“So?”

 

If Phil could have captured the look on Dan’s face somehow, he would have. He looked so genuinely confused, his nose scrunched up and head tipped to the side. It shifted his curls into his face and, despite having just met, Phil thought he looked beautiful. Even with the dim lighting. Fumbling around the grocery bag, Phil pulled out a box of popsicles.

 

“They’re going to melt,” He said with a  frown, “I chose a bad day to buy something frozen."

 

"Mm, sure then." 

 

With the box open and popsicles in hand, they fell into a steady stream of conversation. It was mainly just small talk, and honestly? Phil wasn't listening. His eyes had adjusted to the light and fallen to Dan's lips, watching at they wrapped around the frozen desert until only the bottom half of the popsicle was still visible. Dan didn't pull it away, he just kept it in his mouth, cheeks hollowing slightly as he sucked on the ice. When he finally pulled the popsicle out from between his lips, his tongue darted out, tracing up the side, to catch a bit that was melting.

 

If Phil didn't know any better, he'd say Dan was doing this on purpose.

 

"You're staring," Dan stated, locking eyes with Phil as his tongue swirled around the top of the desert. The popsicle had definitely started melting now, dripping down the stick and onto Dan's hand. He didn't hesitate to lick that away too. 

 

"S-Sorry!" Phil felt his face flush and was instantly grateful for the lack of lighting in the lift. To his surprise, Dan chuckled.

 

"Don't be. I was hoping you would."

 

"Oh?" Phil's face grew impossibly redder as he looked up towards Dan again. 

 

"Mhm." Dan winked, scooting closer to where Phil sat. "We have some time to kill, ya'know?"

 

* * *

 

 

Needless to say, Phil's hatred for the elevator had completely evaporated by the time the doors were opening again and light was flooding the inside of the lift with light. Remnants of the melted popsicle clung to Dan's skin, staining it a mix of blues and red. His curls were mussed and stuck to his forehead with sweat and Phil was sure neither of them looked too innocent. 

Snatching the grocery bag off the floor in one hand and grabbing Dan's with the other, Phil took the stairs for the first time in his life - bolting up to his flat, with Dan in tow. 


End file.
